Superboy Takes Flight
by Flute Chick
Summary: My first YJ fic. Pre-invasion. A girl at Conner Kent's high school takes notice of his brooding attitude more than anyone her age would. What she does gives him no wings, but lets him soar. Oneshot.


**My first attempt at a Young Justice fic. I prefer the pre-invasion stuff, so I'll stick to it. Although I may stick the other young heroes in other fics just for characters, but definitely none of the aliens will be making appearances and none of the team will die.**

**My superhero OC makes an appearance but she's not the main focus. If you guys want more of something like this let me know. My history teacher from last year also makes an appearance :P**

**Enjoy! **

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Conner stared stonily out the classroom window. He kept his distance from the other students as well as he could, and tried his best to be normal. Metropolis High was far from Gotham, so he didn't have any of the team in his school. He struggled in class sometimes—you can only learn so much through telepathic aliens while you're stuck in a tank. But he was okay in history.

"Kent, are you going out for the football team?" asked one of the kids behind him. He shook his head.

"Why not?" He shrugged.

"Can you talk or what?" Conner didn't answer. The kid huffed, perturbed. Robin probably would have made up a new word out of that. He didn't mind his U. S. history teacher much. He was one of the better ones and liked telling the story more than the statistics.

"And what are the four _main_ causes of World War One?" he asked. He had the word "MAIN" written on the board. This one Conner knew because he heard the teacher talking through the paper-thin wall of the classroom a few periods ago, so he raised his hand. The teacher snapped, pointing at him.

"Kent!"

"Militarism, alliances, imperialism, and nationalism." He nodded, satisfied.

"Yeah, that's right. Now who can give me an example . . ." It was after school. The girl who had a locker next to him was normally silent whenever he saw her in the hall, but today she had a small smile on her face. Her eyes looked over the frames of her glasses and she brushed back a strand of black hair from her thin face. She looked like a little blackbird with her posture, about to take flight.

"Hey, Conner. I'm Lark. I was wondering if you wanted to catch a movie with me sometime? You could invite some of your friends from your old school. I was thinking about seeing that new one based off of the Justice League . . ." Conner shook his head.

"I don't like superhero movies. They're cheesy and fake. They get it all wrong." She looked surprised, but continued.

"It doesn't have to be a superhero one. What are you into?"

"I don't get out much. Dunno."

"Well, let me know when you know. Unless of course your parents won't let you out of the house like my cousin. I swear, he's like a little old man, groomed to deal with adults but cannot interact with people his age at _all_," she laughed, almost cackled. Kinda sounded like Robin. So did her cousin. Conner half-smiled.

"Sure. I'll think about it." Yeah. Like he had parents to speak of.

Immediately he started walking towards the mountain, the only place he had to stay. Little did he know that the girl was watching him walk into the wilderness on his own. She was a special girl with connections, though. She knew more than most people thought.

"Kent, Clark, please report to the main desk," she said over the PA of the apartment complex. Well, Superman had to keep up appearances, and Lark's side job was a secretary at the complex when her mom was running errands. It really was all a coincidence.

"Yes, miss?" he asked, stumbling in.

"Hi, Mr. Kent. I'm Lark Gray, Mia Lechter's daughter. It's not business related, just something bothering me, okay? You're the only one I can talk to about it anyway." She looked like a tiny bird to him.

"What's wrong?" Clark Kent was not the one to come to for advice.

"Do you have a son?" she blurted. Before he could answer, she explained her question.

"There's a new boy at my school with a locker next to me. His name's Conner Kent. He looks a lot like you . . . no glasses though. He was walking home alone today and . . ." She trailed off at his tightened expression.

"Conner is . . . well . . . I can't really explain Conner."

"Is he your son? Because if he is, I think you need spend some time with him. And soon." This caught him off guard.

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Conner might just be adjusting to the new school, so I could be totally wrong, but he seems lost. Like he thinks he shouldn't be here, but he doesn't know where else to go. He just goes through the motions . . . he doesn't talk to _anyone_. It's like my cousin Richard—well, I call him my cousin, but he and I were adopted by two different people who dated for a while, so we're more like almost-step-siblings . . . ah, I'm babbling again," she looked up apologetically at the taller man, "But my point is, it's like he doesn't have anyone to go to, to talk to. Someone who he can do anything or nothing with. He's so closed off from everyone. It frustrates me so much.

"I went through a time where I couldn't go to anyone about personal stuff, and I nearly tore myself apart over it. I couldn't even go to my mother-my adoptive mother, but mom all the same-because she'd never know. I'd just found out I was one of triplets but my parents couldn't afford to keep all of us. I felt like a spare, an extra . . . Conner has that same look in his eyes, like he doesn't think he's living up to something. For his sake, I just want him to get help before he goes down that road I did. Once you start on it, you can't get off, and the only chance is if someone lifts you to the sky to see how small the problem can be. That was my cousin Richard for me. He's not really my cousin, but he may as well be my brother," she said definitively. And that statement clicked with him.

_He's not my son, but he may as well be._

"Conner's my son . . . he's been staying apart from me for some time now with a group of friends he has. Thank you for letting me know . . . Lark, is it?"

"Yes sir," she smiled, relieved. "Oh, and he said he didn't like superhero movies. What kind of movie do you think he and his friends would go and see with me? I want to make him feel more welcome than the rest of my classmates have." Clark nearly laughed out loud at the suggestion of the genre.

"I don't know. Something . . . realistic." he smiled at her.

"Thank you. I'll see you around, Mr. Kent."

That night, Superman requested to take over for training Superboy. The boy didn't know that until the cape-clad man stood in the doorway.

"You can't be serious," Superboy said under his breath, forgetting that he wasn't the only one with very good hearing.

"I am. Now come on, I'm in charge of your training for the night—maybe even from now on." They went out into the cool night air on the mountain.

"I haven't spoken with you and I'm sorry," Superman said simply. Well, this was new.

"That's it?" Conner expected a bit more if anything was to come from the Kryptonian's mouth to him. Especially if there was an apology attached.

"I'm sorry. I'll say it again but it won't change what I've not done. I will change what I'm doing, though."

"Why'd this happen all of a sudden?"

"Someone talked some sense into me. I barely know them but they seem to know you better than I do."

"Well, what are we doing then?"

"I said I was training you. Canary can only hold on so far against a Kryptonian," he said with a small smile. Including Superboy as a Kryptonian . . . sounding almost proud of him.

"What's first, sir?" Superman frowned.

"You don't need to call me 'sir' unless there's someone else around. Otherwise I'm Dad to you, Conner."

"That's not exactly true."

"I'm as good as, and I can't make up for lost time but I'll do my best. I'm stubborn and hard-headed and my temper could use some work . . . but my best is all I've ever done. It's never been perfect, and it was a mistake to distance myself from you. I'll do what I can if you'll have me. I understand if you wouldn't."

" . . . okay . . . dad . . ." he tested the feeling of the word on his mouth. It was strange but not unpleasant.

"Let's get to training then. Tell me what you know how to do and we'll work from there." Superman listened as Superboy described how his abilities were. His human DNA was the cause of it, he thought. Superman shook his head.

"No, you're still learning. There are things I couldn't do at your age without anyone's help . . . I had to teach myself a lot. Some of it comes with age. However, there are some things that you just have to learn from someone else. That heat vision thing comes with age. But I can probably teach you how to fly." Superboy highly doubted he could, but nodded nonetheless.

_Hours Later_

"You've almost got it," he encouraged. Superboy shook his head in frustration.

"No, I haven't got it. I'd be up in the air longer if that were the case. Maybe I really can't fly," he said. But Superman refused to let it go.

"Well, at least let me take you flying for a few minutes. It's the least I could do." No, it wasn't. Superboy knew better. The least he could do was nothing, like he had over the past few months. But he didn't say that, because he knew that shutting up was the best way to keep the peace.

"Okay." And Superman took his hand and lifted his son into the air. Superboy stared both above and below at everything. It all seemed so small, and the city that seemed so hectic and shady up close twinkled with light.

They were going fast enough that Superboy only had to hold on to his father's arm, and they were level with one another.

"This is . . . wow . . ." he said.

"I know." They turned a circle and went back to the mountain, slowing down.

Superman lowered slowly to the ground. Little did Superboy realize that he was floating slightly, just enough so he could be as tall as Clark Kent, as the man he was cloned to replace. He could never replace Superman, but he could do his best to be like the hero.

"Goodbye, son," the man said, hugging Conner without telling him that he was flying. It was only after he lifted into the air again that he mentioned it.

"The real trick is getting back on the ground," he pointed at his son's feet before taking off. Conner looked down, confused, then realized exactly what had happened. He was flying on his own.

Somewhere, a blackbird whistled a tune and watched the boy soar higher than it ever would.

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**See what I did there? :D**

**I'm open to comments, questions, criticisms, etc.**

**See you guys later!**

**Flute Chick**


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